Sweet Dreams
by Aviator Dark
Summary: The Dance Central group try to search for a serial killer who's wounded Bodie's sister... but they don't know the whole of the story. Featuring Jeff the Killer, let me know if I should put this in the crossover section. Horror, Crime, Mystery, Tragedy, and everything in between.


**Sweet Dreams**

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**author's note**

**I made this story because hey, I'm facing writers block... This story is sort of a crossover with Jeff the Killer... I hope you sleep tonight. No, seriously, go search for Jeff the Killer on Google and tell me what you find c: you'll need to know Jeff's story anyway.**

**However, I tweaked with the original 'Jeff the Killer' story and tried to fill in some plotholes. There are plenty of errors in the original story (Jeff went mad for no reason, Jeff killed his parents, Jeff burnt off his eyelids therefore rendering himself quite vulnerable, etc) so I will change plenty of the story. **

**I will use '«»' as a warning for violence. Another '«»'was that the violent scene is over. **

**warnings**

**BLOOD GORE BLOOD GORE BLOOD GORE BLOOD GORE BLOOD GORE BLOOD GORE**

**...do I make myself clear?**

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Night was a black curtain draped over the sky. And there was a dangerous serial killer out there. Word says he is possessed, word says that he is no human. Something was wrong, terribly wrong... and a troop of inexperienced crew members decide to hunt him down.

It was the biggest mistake of their lives.

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"Have you heard of Jeff the Killer?"

"Do you know about the serial killer?"

"We'll get him."

"Justice shall prevail."

"I do not know who he is, and neither do I want to. He has killed and killed. And the terrible actions he has performed... we must put an end to him."

"There is a menace on the loose. We must be on guard.

We cannot let him run free."

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_part one_

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"You want to give up dancing and chase after a killer who's mutilated and killed plenty, and you expect to catch him?" A man in a suit of black and purple placed his pen on his desk and sighed. "I've never heard someone say something so idiotic before. Nay. I do not give you my permission. It is not because I need you here; you are important to us. Yes, all of you. But it is because I worry for you. This is mere blasphemy."

He shook his head slowly and stood up. Running a hand through his shiny, slick hair, he faced the dancers. His best dancers, all of them, were willing to give up dancing to chase down a criminal? He had once assumed that, to all of them, dancing was the finest art, one that flowed through their veins and made them who they were now.

But they obviously thought otherwise. Their eyes were like chipped stone, and their faces showed no concern, only determination. A hint of hostility, perhaps. But not the slightest clue of hesitation. They were mad, the lone man suspected. One of his dancers, a muscular blond, quietly spoke.

"We can learn," he voiced. All eyes turned to him, and the first man locked his eagle-eyed gaze to the dancer. "You cannot," he contradicted. "Bodie, I know you are concerned, but this is not a killer to mess with."

The blue-eyed dancer, who went by the name of Bodie, opened his mouth. "Rasa—"

"Silence," Rasa interrupted. In a gentler voice, he actually showed sympathy. "Bodie, I know you worry for your sister, but she is safe on the hospital now. There is no reason to take revenge." His tone then grew level. Bodie was unable to reply in his grief. "She's been hurt so bad..." he whispered softly. "It should have been me."

Another dancer, this time a female with brown hair and a lithe figure, placed her hand on Bodie and crooned to him, pulling him back. Her eyes were glimmering with kindness. "I'm sure she'll be okay."

Rasa watched as she guided the despair-ridden blond away. The sight tugged his heart away. And yet this was still no reason to allow his dancers to plunge into peril. What was wrong with him? He was the man that these dancers looked up to. If he let them go, what dangers would they face?

"Emilia, do you agree with Bodie?" he finally inquired. She turned to look at him, her green eyes darkening. "Well..." she paused uncertainly. "Bodie's sister is badly hurt, and I'd do what anyone else would do. I know it's stupid, Rasa, I _know_, but I can't stand still when this killer is still loose."

Considering the opinions, Rasa turned to the cluster of other dancers. Huddled away with their heads down, neither of them seemed willing to speak. Rasa decided to ask the younger ones first. "Glitch and Tia, what do you have in mind about this?" He made himself sound very serious by addressing the girl as Tia and not her usual nickname, Li'l T.

Both youngsters shared a glance before quite honestly speaking. Glitch spoke first. "I really don't know about this... and I agree that it's plain stupid that everyone wants to chase this psychopath killer—" he broke off, suddenly thinking of what he'd say next, judging by his expression. He had run out of words, and Tia finished for him. "And we're not completely sure about this yet."

Rasa sighed. He would question everyone if this went on.

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Jeff didn't need to smile; the permanent cuts on his mouth revealed what madness he was in. There were bloodstains all over his once-white hoodie. The knife in his hand was cold and the blade gleamed a ruby glow. He was but a killing machine now, but somewhere within him, there was the lonely soul of a boy who had lost everything dear to him...

The bloody corpse in front of him was lying awkwardly on one side. Once upon a time the person was probably a kind man who lived a happy life until he, Jeff the Killer, stopped by his house. There was no doubt that the man, now dead, had been terrified by the almost ghostly appearance. Jeff didn't understand why nobody appreciated his face as he did himself.

White and red was what Jeff would use to describe himself, if only he had the time to think. The man's wife was about to scream. Jeff didn't mind if she alerted the neighbors; he had already murdered one person. But still, he gripped his knife and laughed maniacally. The woman's eyes widened and she was so scared that she lost her voice. Jeff lumbered towards her, then sped up and jumped, landing right behind her.

«»

He held the knife with two hands and immediately backslashed the woman in the shape of an X. Blood splattered his clothes, but Jeff didn't care. Some of it splashed into his open eyes and yet he didn't care. Despite not being able to see, he still hacked and sliced. The red liquid ran down Jeff's forehead and dripped from his pale chin.

«»

Now lifeless, the woman fell to the floor, and Jeff crouched next to her. "Go to sleep..." he whispered. Then he, with no particular reason, took his knife and carved into the wooden floor, huge letters that spelled, 'JEFF THE KILLER WAS HERE.' Finished, Jeff ran out through the open door. He covered his face with the hoodie. Despite his strength he was still noticeable. Even in such a state he knew that, and so he ran into the cover of the dark roadside alleys.

Jeff was only a creature now. Somewhere deep within, however, a spirit was crying. The spirit of the easily emotional Jeff, a young boy who never had what meant mist to many people. He never had the true love of a family. His family, of course, had been nice to him, but they never did love him as they did his brother, Liu. And yet, still, the spirit wondered; why had he let the darker side of him take over?

The spirit was in a cage of sadness and despair. The murderer who lived on was not Jeff. He had never been the real Jeff. The real Jeff was a boy who lived the average life, who would never have killed. The spirit sobbed silently, but Jeff—the Killer Jeff—would never listen to the mourning soul. The only thing that the soul managed to do was make the Killer carve his name. That way, hopefully... hopefully the Killer could be found and, if the soul was lucky, executed. That way, the soul would be free.

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**author's note**

**Okay, I'm going to stop here for now... if anyone likes this story I'll continue it, probably as a really long one-shot. Review :3 **

**And oh... sweet dreams. **


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